So here I sit in the Coffee Shop-- another day of the same old routine.... that vague itch getting worse. Restless stirrings getting stronger.
Time for a road trip? A long weekend at the beach perhaps? Or hop a bus to a random destination? Or maybe something larger and grander?
The nomadic urge is upon me again. I feel the need to leave this place and head to new lands, new people, new surprises. Surprises are the essence of life and liveliness.... gotta open up space for those magic synchronicities. Right now? No space... just day after day of study and movies. Not being surprised by anything or anyone anymore. The thick sludge of routine covers my every action. Its not unpleasant really. Im not miserable. But routine of any sort isn't for me.... I'm a nomad... a Skald.... and I'm built to ramble. I've moved since I was 7 years old and that urge just keeps getting stronger. South America calls to me. Japan calls. Eastern Europe calls. France, Italy, Spain, and Portugal call. Africa calls. Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Costa Rica call. The world calls.
My feet itch. My legs bounce nervously. I long to be on the move. How I love it! I love the thrill and hum of the airport. I love the smell of the planes. I love the rush of touts at the arrival gate. I love the look and feel of strange currency. I love the exhaustion at the end of the day. I love the bewilderment of a new city-- the unexpected encounters--- the weird strangers--- the unknown surprises lurking at the end of every unexplored alley. I love the whiff of new foods... the sight of bright clothing.... the Alice-In-Wonderland feeling as I wander aimlessly. Moving is a form of meditation: Sacred Drift.
Moving keeps the world, and the mind, fresh and new.... brilliant and unveiled. I love to awake with no idea about what the day will bring.... and to put my head on a new bed every night! For those of us who are hooked, nothing can replace the magic of the open road.